A Blade In The Dark
by The next Episodes
Summary: Set during the Dark Brotherhood recession period. The once mighty organization that once instowed fear has became a shadow of its former self, and despite that the death guild desperately tries to prevent the inevitable. Follow Anyarah as she she attempts to save her brotherhood, but will it be in vain?
1. Chapter 1

The sky bled with dusk quickly following suit. Dark clouds clustering and stirred over the night sky giving the city below's quiet streets a gloomy outlook. The vacant streets belonged to the sleepy city of Wayrest. There was still one though who wandered its streets. A young Imperial woman dressed in a black cloak, completed with a cowl that draped fully to the her shoulders, and did its job of concealing the wearer's identity. Slowing down she and came to a stop when she reached the entrance of a tavern, looking curiously at the sign hanging above the door. It was scratched out making it impossible to read.

Turning her attention back to the tavern itself, she opened the door and entered. The room was filled with the sounds of the bard who sat by the fire while casually grazing his fingers against his lute's strings, not doing any song in particular. Light discreet cautious murmurs of conversation hummed. The delicate slurping of the regular patrons as they absent-mindedly savoured the taste of warm ale, eyes focusing on nothing in particular. She approached a man who was seated, who seemed to be deep in his own thoughts to care or notice that she approached him.

"Are you Vicue, my contact?"

The short, older man with one eye turned his head and glanced at her, then returned to his drink taking another sip. "You know who I am. Wouldn't approach me if you didn't," He said without looking at her. She took another step closer and placed a small purse filled with coins on the table and sat across from him.

"I'm sure you know what I'm here for," she spoke softly.

He studied her closely as while picking up the coin purse and tugging on the small string keeping it close. He emptied its contents into his hand and Clenched them gold tightly and then shoved them into his pocket.

"What is it you want to know?"

She narrowed her eyes and sent a glare at a barmaid as she caught her curious stare. The maid just shrugged and just went back to washing mugs. "I'm not sure we should speak here," she said back while looking towards the man in front of her. Making him let out a slight chuckle at the sight of her uneasiness.

"Let me tell you something….uh," He said while motioning for her to tell her name.

"Anyarah."

"Anyarah, you could disrobe right now and dance around bare-breasted and no one would bat an eye. We mind our own business around here." He said taking another sip of ale. "So I ask you again, what do you want to know?"

"There's a party I need to get into, a royal party. I'm sure you can understand that it's also by invitation only." The man raised an eyebrow at her in curiosity and smiled.

"Oh I see. In order to get into any, uh, royal parties around here is quite simple. You gotta be somebody or the other option is somehow getting a letter of recommendation from the King's steward, with the King's royal seal, which just so happens to be in the steward's possession."

"Do you know any discreet ways in," she asked. The man let out another low chuckle again before taking another sip of ale.

"I'm sure the way I told you is discreet enough," She took out a second coin purse and placed it in the middle of the table. "You're serious about this I see then. If discretion is what you want then, there's a brothel not too far from here. Behind it is a well."

"A well?"

The man simply waved off her doubt and continued on.

"Yes, a well. It leads to a whole secret underground tunnel system the thieves guild themselves used in their prime."

"I've never known about that!"

The man snorted while he poured out the second purse.

"Course you didn't, secret is in the name. If it wasn't wouldn't be no point in calling it secret, now would it?"

"Shut up."

Taking another sip of ale before speaking again, "I like you. Don't speak much and I can tell you're smart. My brother was just like you, though the difference between you and him is that he knew what a secret was. Him and me, we were the thieves back in our younger days. Best ones the guild here in Highrock had to offer. We were doing our greatest heist yet, 'The Great Theft of Bruma', we called it. Fitting name too. We and one other person, Millie, I believe her name was, cleared out the throne room which housed the greatest ancient Akaviri collection you'd ever see."

"That's….impressive. Tell me, how did you get away?"

"We used those tunnels I told you about, and it took us all the way to Daggerfall. Cut the guild out of our profit, and me and my brother went our separate ways. I'm sure it could have taken us further but you get the idea."

"Where'd your brother go?"

The man shrugged in response. "I don't know. You have any siblings?" The man asked getting a nod out of Anyarah.

"A brother."

"Then you know how siblings are, they never write."

"What of Millie."

The man scoffed at her before taking another sip of ale."We cut the guild out, remember? Ditched her in the tunnels." He sighed before narrowing his one good eye at Anyarah. "So how is the guild?"

"Guild?" Anyarah said in confusion before shaking her head. "No, I'm not with any guild."

"Could've fooled me. Let me ask you something, why do you want to get into this party so bad anyways?"

"Come with me and I'll show you." There was something in her voice that stroked his curiosity and made it seem like he'd have to do it. He downed the rest of his ale, wiped his mouth with back of his hand, and followed her out the tavern. The man frowned, visually showing his displeasure at the falling droplets of water, and then he sighed as he followed her into a nearby alleyway.

Once he stepped into the alleyway, whatever affect her voice had on him to make him lose reason and give into his curiosity wore off as he saw a dagger in her hand. The blade was single-edged, and slightly curved, with a serrated back. He turned to break into a sprint but it was already too late. The assassin was already upon him, slamming the butt of her blade into the back of his head causing him to stumble and fall. She dragged him back into the alley and lifted him by the collar and pressing him against the wall.

"Please let me go!" The man cried through his daze. Anyarah's response was switching from holding his collar to forcing her arm against his throat.

"Keep your voice down," Anyarah's low voice whispered in his ear with her warm breath trickling down his face. Which would of been sexy if she weren't going to stab him with a rather jagged blade. "I want to keep this a….secret." The man eyes widened as the blade was plunged in between his ribs, killing him instantly.

She removed her arm from his throat letting the corpse fall. She turned to leave but stopped just short of the entrance of the alleyway. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a nightshade, dropped it onto the pavement, and left as if nothing happened.

xxxx

Throughout the centuries the people of Tamriel have always known them. Though taboo to speak of in public, they always knew they were there both ignoring them yet acknowledging them. The secret organization shrouded in mystery, the ruthless assassins who would stop at nothing to see their target eliminated, or simply the followers of Sithis and the Night Mother. That's what they were known as once.

Since the Oblivion crisis, the once mighty organization had gone into a recession. The Shadowscale training had long since ended and the reach of the Brotherhood was no longer as extensive as it once was. They couldn't even maintain the illusion that they were everywhere and yet nowhere. Even Night Mother who once spoke directly through the listener had gone silent and the Brotherhood was left to fend for themselves.

The Brotherhood became hardly more than a band of cutthroats without their matron and the illusive idea that the Dark Brotherhood would ever regain its former glory became just that, an illusion. An impossibility that only the mad or stupid would dream of.

Though there was hope in one relatively prospering sanctuary: the Wayrest Sanctuary. Its chain of successful contracts followed with the letter, allowing them to get a new fairly important contract. The assassination of the prince of Wayrest. And so they clinged to their new hope in attempt to at least restore some value in the Dark Brotherhood name. And that's where Anyarah felt she came in. Helping her family in whatever ways she could in carefully planning this assassination. She'd been working tirelessly gathering as much intel as she could while simultaneously cutting off loose ends.

Even though she tried her hardest to make this contract a success, she couldn't shake the ominous suspicion that something was going to go terribly wrong. The thought that through their bad luck, someone would approach them with a contract that would put them back on top yet was too good to be true. The fact their leader of the Wayrest Sanctuary keep the identity of this employer secret was also quite unsettling.

She shook her head and sighed, getting rid of her plaguing thoughts. She continued on traversing through the dark sewers that the resided beneath the city. Anyarah grimaced as the smell of all kinds of waste became stronger.

"Out of all the locations in Highrock, they pick the sewers," Anyarah snarled as she saw a couple of rats skitter past her feet. Her face twisted into that of disgust as she turned another corner. Soon, she approached the Black Door of Wayrest. The assassin stopped just short of the door and removed her hood revealing her fair skin, long inky black hair that stopped at her shoulders, and her dark piercing eyes. The handleless black door had the depiction of one large skull carved in it with a black handprint placed in its forehead. Underneath the skull was beautiful dark elf woman holding a bloodied dagger in one hand and a much smaller skull in the other.

The door said nothing to her yet she could hear the question echo throughout her head. There it was standing begrudgingly locked, expectantly awaiting for her to recite the words unknown to all but the Brotherhood.

'What is man's greatest fear'

"That he cannot control, my brother"

'You are worthy'


	2. Chapter 2

A bored sigh escaped from a figure perched upon a rooftop, overlooking a one way street. His tongue darted out using it as a sense to feel out his environment. His lizard features tugged into a grin as he sensed the slightest movement behind him.

"You're late. That's very unlike you….sister," he said without turning to face her. The figure stepped out of the shadows shrugging and a smirk gracing her features. The Argonian turned his head to the side allowing for his scarlet reptilian-like eyes to meet her blue beauties. The Breton woman wore a relatively lightweight and flexible cuirass with plenty of vials containing various poisons attached. A bow and quiver was slung across her shoulder by its string. It was utilitarian in appearance, but contained double-chevron plates that protect the facing, and enabled the ability to parry.

On her legs were dark regid greaves that would come quite handy for a assassin and especially if comes to climbing or scaling. On her feet were black colored lightweight boots, gloves reaching below the forearms, and her coif was pulled back revealing her choppy black hair giving her the just-rolled-out-of-bed-look.

"Yeah, yeah, you damn lizard I know. My last target was a runner, gave me quite the workout too," She said while stooping down and massaging her ankles. A smirk began form on her lips again. "I guess you could say it was pretty killer," lightly chuckling to herself she stood up and gazed at the city below. " Though I still don't see why Cliyn sent on us both for this contract, we all I know I can do it myself." The Argonian let out another sigh in reply, not really caring much about the Dumner's complaints.

"Good to work with you too, Nirala. Trust me, the fact our gracious leader made me your babysitter doesn't sit well with me neither, but like everyone else I must do my part."

"Whatever," she huffed while taking a seat next him and letting her legs dangle off the roof. "Trick question, who's the one about to be put in an early grave?" The Argonian frowned and choose to not bring up her ignorance her towards the mission.

"He's a wealthy aristocrat from an important house in Cyrodiil, and is apparently attending the fancy little party being thrown in the prince's honor. He goes by Gialvus."

"Nice to know, but why specifically him? what significance does his death in particular have?" The Argonian stayed silent for a few moments before replying.

"You sure do ask a lot of questions. The most I know is that he's a powerful man with a lot of enemies, one of which happens to be his very own wife. Who happens to be the one who gave us this contract to begin with. Though it's quite apparent there is something more to this, what gave it away for you?" The Dark elf next to him plucked an arrow from her quiver and begun to examining its head.

"It would be mighty shameful for an assassin to overlook such blatant details," She detached a small green vial from her cuirass and popped the cork off. "He sent two assassins to do a one man's job," She said while dipping the arrow head into the vial. "Like I said I could of done this myself. He sent the both of us which means he really wants this man dead my lizzardy friend." She said the last part while pointing the tainted arrow at him and sitting it down next to her.

The Argonian rested his chin in between index and thumb and hummed thoughtfully to himself. "Don't call me that, though you're obviously onto something. There has to be good reason for him to being so secretive? Perhaps it has something do with our main contract, you know the prince."

"Speaking of that," She said while taking a deep breath and running her hands through her hair. "I've been getting some bad vibes from all this. Feels like this whole thing is going to blow up in our face somehow."

"Yeah, well we all do. Cliyn does too I'm sure of it, but if he says we go through with this then that's what will do. Like it or not he's still our leader and head of this family. Besides were pretty much broke. We're not making enough, and even with all the new contracts were getting. So the choice isn't really ours. So trust Cilyn's judgement, it's the most we can do as of now." She opened her mouth to say something but simply sighed in defeat.

"I hope you're right about this, Ajum." The Argonian chuckled in reply.

"For all our sakes, I do too."

* * *

An Argonian driver groaned in exhaustion as the grey maned horse pulling the carriage, turned the corner leading into the a one laned street. They've been riding for days on end from Cyrodiil and during that time he was rarely given the privilege of sleep. He hauled quite the pretentious cargo, something carried itself as if it was worth more than all the gold and jewels the world could offer. Royalty. Though to him the man was worth nothing, even if the man did own him.

'Perhaps one day he could free himself.' A voice in the back of his head seemed to tell him. He quickly rid himself of the thought. Idealism for an Argonian as himself isn't good. For such idealism could lead lead to something truly pointless. Hope. Such a small and harmless word, one that seemed to ooze positively. To him that was not the case. Hope inspired many rebellions, a few in which he took part in. Though all of them ended the same. Horribly. He couldn't count the bodies.

'It's the only way.' The voice said in a gentle whisper that seemed to be carried unnaturally through the wind. It was barely audible but at the same time very much so. Though the voice was extremely vague, but he knew what it meant. It quickly began to annoy him much like an itch that wouldn't go away.

"No." He firmly stated aloud to no one. It seemed ridiculous, but the action felt necessary for some reason. He continued to ride in silent before it spoke again.

'You do wish to be free, don't you?'

The Argonian glanced to the weapon that laid next to him. It was a standard axe he used to fend off bandits and wolves. Grasping its handle tightly he began to think. Of course he wanted to be free. He wanted his future hatchlings to be free and there's to be as well. There were times he wished he died amongst his brethren who fell within the rebellions he partook in. He knew that he would most likely spend the rest of his life miserably serving Gialvus and his accursed house. The very thought angered him terribly and sickened him to his very core. The aristocrat would never set him free and he knew that.

'Then free yourself.' The voice he assumed was his conscious spoke again.

"Ridiculous." He said back more aggressively than before. He had no idea how weather this thought in the back of his mind, was in fact his conscious or perhaps he was going crazy. Perhaps the many horrors of which he's witnessed has finally caught up to him.

'It's the only way.'

"The only way." He said the word back to himself. The voice was no longer a whisper, but sounded as if it were right next to him. It began to scare him. He wanted to kill the royal, but he wasn't stupid. They would hunt him down and string him up like a dog.

'Yes It's the only way.' The voice repeated once more even louder, and as well as sounding thoroughly amused at the expense of its host sanity.

'The only way! ' It repeated again while raising it's audibility louder, forcing it's voice into the his head. It was clear that the voice was no longer interested in debate. He clutched the sides of temples in complete agony. While placing his thumbs into his ears as an attempt to block the noise. Though he soon found that to be futile.

"Please." He pleaded to the voice. To which it responded by amplifying its voice tenfold when again hollering into his mind.

'Kill him!' It demanded forcing himself to forget about the possible consequences. The lizard brought the carriage to an abrupt end. He stayed there for a moment and still tightly grasping the handle of the axe until his scaly knuckles became white. He could still hear the voice in his head playing on constant repeat like a broken record. He hopped from his seat.

"The only way," The Argonian said echoing the repeating voice. The voice that left his mouth sounded foreign to him. Like it was his but it wasn't. The same could be said for his body he could feel himself move but didn't command his body to do so. He repeated the three word saying again like a mindless zombie. He threw the door of the carriage open, and waking the young man behind it from his sleep. The aristocrat was a shorter Imperial man a in silk sleeping robes.

"What..." He wasn't even able to get any more words out, and even then it wouldn't matter for the Argonian had already buried the axe's blade into his chest. He tore the axe out and slam the back into the man's chest. Then repeated the process again and again.

"The only way." The Argonian said as he stepped on the Gialvus's stomach and tore the axe out. The rage that drove him to murder faded and he finally felt free, but as the moments passed and reality had finally set in he realized what he had done. The Argonian dropped the murder weapon as he felt his hands shaking. "By this Hist, what I done?" He gasped in agony as his eyes turned towards his shoulder where he felt a wave of fiery pain.

He tried to cry out but found that his voice no longer there. The Argonian collapsed into the streets as he lost all feelings to his entire body. The pain in his shoulder hadn't dulled yet and his vision blurred, barley allowing him to see his executioner notch their next arrow and fire it.

Back on the roof the Assassin who caused the scene grinned to herself. "What I tell you? Didn't I say I could handle this myself, Ajum? Nothing a little illusionary spell and a couple of arrows couldn't handle, huh my lizardy friend?" When he didn't reply the Dark elf wondered if he was listening and decided to call his name again. "Ajum?"

"You sure did." He said back emptily while glancing back at the dead Argonian. He set his eyes at the man cleaved in half from his chest. "Lets just never speak of this," Ajum added quickly while walking away. Nirala stared him with as much curiosity of a fiver year old child.

"What a strange lizard."

* * *

As he gazed into the fire the place he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. For centuries the soul reason of the Dark Brotherhood was to serve and obey the words of the Night Mother and Sithis. They were to follow the five tenets, there rules. Rules that set a clear line between them and common killers. Since the beginning with his time with the brotherhood he'd been told to maintain these fives tenets, and no matter the circumstance, never turn his back on the Night Mother.

He did as he was told, blindingly following the Night Mother, and praising every word that slipped it's through the mouth of the listener. Everything was fine. Then the Night Mother started talking less and less until it became rare that she'd speak at all. Without her guidance the brotherhood fell into recession. "And she let it," The man growled to himself while pacing back and forth within his office. He found himself doing that quite often nowadays.

Counting to three the man calmed himself and looked into the palm of his hand and clenched it into a fist. Ever since the bringing of the 4th Era the brotherhood has gone into a succession. Sanctuaries all around Tamriel began to fall and the sanctuary in Wayrest was one of last few remaining homes for the brotherhood. The old way of doing things are no longer possible in this day and age. Most of his organization were too thick headed to see otherwise, especially the Listener. They needed a way to evolve and break free from this old way of thinking, but how?"

The door to the room opened interrupting in his train of thought. He turned his head to see Anyarah standing at the door.

"Cliyn," She spoke his name while entering the room. For a minute he said nothing back, but apon responding he only waved her off. A thought came to his head as if bestowed from the heavens themselves. He smiled internally to himself as he found a way to rid of one less headache.


	3. Chapter 3

The warm flames of the fireplace crackled as it continued to burned the blackened wood. A Breton manDark Elf's maroon colored eyes focused on him with a sort of deadly fascination that sent shivers was left mesmerized at the Dark Elf woman that stood in front of the fire dancing provocatively while naked. She swayed her hips as she raised her arms and bended them slightly,and while keeping an seductive smirk on her face.

"I've never seen a Dumner quite like you before." He said causing her to raise an eyebrow and lightly chuckling to herself. She said nothing back as she ran her hands through her curly silver hair. The down his spine but at the same time allured him.

"Isn't that something," she stated sarcastically and while taking a step forward, "Only I alone have caught the attention of one of Cyrodiil's most elite nobleman." She said smugly while continuing to maintain that same seductive smirk.

The Breton man chuckled out loud to himself as he unscrewed the top off a bottle of fine Altmer wine. "You are quite the rare breed," he said as he poured the contents of the bottle into a glass and handed it to her before doing the same for himself. "What's your name by the way, I've must've forgot."

"You never asked. To busy with the frolicking I suppose." She said playfully before taking a sip of the wine. "Navah'" The Dark Elf stated as she propped a hand on her waist.

"You know, there's something about you that sets you apart from most other wenches I usually come across. You have an air of mystery, that in all honesty, is quite frightening, but even more so alluring."

"Us Dark Elves can be quite sexy," An amused smirk formed on her face as she put the glass down and moved towards him.

"From what I've seen so far," he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer, "I wouldn't call you a liar." He said as he leaned in to kiss her but soon had a feeling within his chest that quickly spanned from an irritating itch to absolutely unbearable. He looked down to see a spectral blade that was currently through his chest. He attempted to cry out in pain but was soon made impossible as she clasped her hand around his mouth effectively silencing him.

She tore the blade out of his chest and pushed him onto the bed with the other hand. Navha opened the palm containing the spectral blade which allowed it to dissipate into nothingness. The seductive smirk of the Dark Elf never wavered as she crawled over him while tracing a finger up his chest, and lightly tapping the large wound in his chest causing the man to wince in pain.

She chuckled finding a cruel amusement of the pain she dealt while finally allowing her gaze to meet his. "Not into this?" She leaned in closer to his ear. "Well that's too bad," she spoke condescendingly. "I could've gone for another round." She raised off him and redressed herself in the black evening gown she wore previously meeting the dead noble.

As she opened the door to the room she turned and looked at the dead body.

"Don't take this personally….It is just business after all. Perhaps someday you can find it in your severed heart to forgive me."

"Pay attention!" The man snapped at his partner, "I swear we'll be dead before we knew what hit us with your lazy ass keeping watch." His partner slowly stood up and wiped the crust from his eyes. He was taller and more slimmer than the angered man. His blond hair resembling that of gold was braided back. His azul colored eyes glimmered in amusement at his partner. They both grey colored thick leather armor faced with steel plates. This cuirass is crisscrossed by leather bandoliers in which enabled secondary weapons

"Just thinking about that barmaid from the other night. Thinking about paying her a little visit later." He sighed before a thought crossed his mind. "Hey where that other fella go?"

His partner snorted and promptly crossed his arms. "That bastard. Left just a minute ago. Said he gotta go drain it," he paused before continuing. "You know it's a shame," his partner raised an eyebrow in bemusement.

"At him taking a leak."

"At how we were being sent to High Rock just to just to deliver some damn letter," he stated narrowing his eyes at the taller man who chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"Aye, they must think our profession isn't so much mercenary but courier," the taller man said then slightly chuckled to himself.

"And I didn't leave my life as a "privateer" to become no one's delivery boy. Even if the job pays well."

The man let out another chuckle, "So what are you trying to say, Blaieus? Your thirst for adventure outweighs a well paying job as a mercenary." He said with a hint of amusement.

"If you can even call us mercenaries," he spat in disgust. "Working for that Old man don't exactly sit well with me, Jeerek." The taller man raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Why so?"

"Rumor has it the the Old man who hired us is being hunted by the Dark Brotherhood, and I'll be damned if I have any part of that," he chuckled to himself. "I hear a trading ship, The Maiden, I believe they call her, will be to Skyrim. I'll be on that ship first chance I get, and you better believe I'll be long gone by the time things blow up in your face. So Incase an assassin attacks I suggest you use that bastard, Anthel, as a meat shield," he said causing both men to laugh. The short lived laughter was interrupted with the sound of footsteps. It belonged to a young man who seemed to be in his early twenties.

"Took you long enough. Beginning to think you weren't coming back. I was hoping you'd drop dead, but turned out to be just hopeful wishing." The man spat on the ground in disgust and walked over to the two. He was a middle aged man with his face to match, and was of medium height standing a few inches shorter than Jeerek. His bald head was covered by a black wool cap.

"And I was beginning to believe that," A scowled as his gaze landed on Blaieus. " That one over there was dead, but I too, Jeerek, was let down it seems." The shorter man growled in annoyance and stepped forward. Furthermore, you should be more worried about yourself. Children shouldn't be out when it's dark." Anthel narrowed his eyes and walked forward.

"Child you say?" He said resting his hand on the blade at his side. "Lets see how much of a child I am with my blade through your throat."

Anthel snorted back in disgust. "Well is that so."

"Relax Jeerek, we have a long trip ahead of us later tonight." Blasius placing a hand on the shorter mercenary's shoulder. " And besides," turning back to Anthel he cracked a smirk,"An accident on the road is always more convincing." He said getting a scowl from Anthel.

"The Old man wants to have a few words with us." Anthel said dismissing Blaieu's comment and turning towards the estate.

Xxxx

The flicker of light from the small flame illuminated the office briefly before allowing the room to return to the dark. The sound of an old and scratchy voice cursing followed the dimming of the the room before returning to silence. The voice's owner slipped his hand into his pocket and brought out the pocket watch that resided within it. He looked at checking the time," Past twelve." He mumbled to himself as he slipped the watch back into his pocket. The old man decided to look out the window to see if the mercenaries he hired to guard his home would be approaching his front door soon, but saw nothing but his empty courtyard

"Mercenaries," he spat in disgust all turning towards his desk and opening it in a fury. "Hire them for one job and they can't even do that." Reaching in the drawer and searching for the only thing that could help him now. "A waste of precious gold I'll tell ya, and Divines know I've been losing a lot of that lately." He smirked triumphantly as he found what he was looking for. An ivory pipe. He coughed violently at the touch of the pipe and even coughing some blood up in the process.

The old man forced himself through his coughing fit to light the pipe in spite of his poor lungs. Amazingly he didn't cough the pipe out of his mouth rather in fact the coughing ceased altogether as if his body was no longer able to fight the polluting of his lungs. He knew he would die soon and this was his way of cooping, and he'd be damned if something like old age or poor health would stop him. A series of curses and wondering what could have been followed his thought of death. He wondered what life could of been if he were to be the one who died all those years ago in place of his brother. Would his brother have opted to help and protect them rather flip their misery into profit by flooding the streets with skooma, the preferred drug, and extort those who obviously couldn't pay for his "protection". Would he too have a good for nothing son who is no saint himself.

He was not a good person quite the opposite actually and he made peace with that the second he killed his brother all that those years ago. One thing he couldn't quite make peace with was death. His own death anyway. Up until his later life the idea of death was foreign to him, and why shouldn't it. He was invincible. He was untouchable. He was feared. He was….

He sighed to himself as his train of thought was interrupted by knocks at his door. He wondered how long he'd been sitting here thinking to himself before another wave of knocks came from his door this time louder. He grumbled another number of curses to himself until he finally yelled out that the door was open. The doorknob turned slowly and the door opened to reveal a dark elf woman in black evening gown.

She took a step forward into the room closing the door behind her.

"What do you want," the old man said getting no reply from the woman. She took another step forward while opening the palm of her hand and to reveal a small purple ball of light. She clenched the ball tight and released it letting the ball dissipate into nothingness. "So you came here to show me magic tricks." The man said in confusion. "Thats neat and all but-" His voice was cut off as he mind as the sudden realization came to him. The woman standing in front of him was no longer in that evening gown from before. But was dressed in the dark robes that worn only by those in the Dark Brotherhood. With even the handprint marking on the chest of the robes to show as a testament of her allegiance.

"You've been a pretty naughty boy for some time, Hasoc." She chuckled to herself as she sung his name cooly. "Many families were torn apart from your lust for gold and many were also killed from your hand as well. Including some people I know. I could go on to the rest of your crimes or even the ones against humanity you committed, but we'd be here for days and I don't think we both have that kind of time."

"I couldn't agree more." The old man said as he stood up from his chair and walked towards her. "I've probably have a lot of angry people waiting for me in the afterlife…..best not to keep them waiting." He said making them both laugh before the assassin summoned her spectral blade and slamming it into the man's chest with excessive force. She then violently ripped the blade out and swung it almost nearly cleaving the man's head off. She ripped the blade out of the side of his neck and kicked the old man in chest sending his body backwards. The back of his head hit the desk before his body finally collided with the ground.

"Rot in the void you dirty bastard." She before spitting on the body and leaving.


	4. Chapter 4

**Please review, I would like more insight on what the reader thinks about it. Special thanks to the few who've already done it.**

All she could see was black as she could see nothing within this realm of nothing. There was no ground, there was no sky, and there was no oxygen. She felt herself being pulled further downwards into the dark abyss. Moving her limbs in attempt to resist it soon proved to be futile as the burdensome weight keeping her down had seemed to increased ten fold. All she could do was close her eyes as she held onto the miniscule of air she had left. Her throat ache and her lungs felt as if they were burst. She couldn't take anymore. The lost of breath was barley prevalent as her mind was slipping into unconsciousness.

"Is it true…." Everything stopped with the utterance of those three words. Her body hit what she only could hope be the surface of this bottomless hell. She shakily drew a breath as she began to push herself up.

"Is it true..." Her eyes unconsciously opened in surprise in recognition of the voice. She looked up and saw him. There he stood, a boy who looked to be no older than eleven. His dark eyes bore into hers as she continued to struggle to get up. "I read the journal. The one you left behind." The boy said getting no reply from the assassin. "It said you….." The boy started again "It said for you hurt people and some of them were people we know."

"Hurt them…." The assassin repeated in a coy manner involuntarily while finally gaining her bearings.

"Stop it." The boy demanded as his anger began to rise. "You know farewell what I mean," He pointed his finger at her accusingly. "Every night you sneak away to kill people. Ever since that time you killed that man you've been acting different. I know he got what he deserved, but why? Why would you kill more people? These people were innocent!" Neither of them spoke after but just continued stare into each in silence waiting for what the other would say.

"So that's it then!" The boy clenched his hands tightly into a fist until blood began to seep from his palms. "Your nothing more than one of those murderer who kills for what….money." The boy stated in his raging fit more than more than questioned.

"Jon…." she said back softly taking a step forward. "They took me in, accepted me, and treated me like family." The boy's anger only grew as he felt betrayal in her words.

"And what about us?" He said dryly as he found it more difficult to even look at her. "I thought we were family."

"Jon, we still can be." She said taking another step forward. "Join the Brotherhood," She stopped for a second. "Jon, join me." She said while outstretching her hand towards him. Jon, however, was having none of it.

"Don't touch me." He slapped the hand away while and again pointing at the assassin. "You are not my sister, Anyarah, and we are most definitely not family. Your nothing but a murderer." The boy said before running of into the dark void around them. He didn't look back and Anyarah made no attempt to chase him. She stood and watched in silence as the last remanence of her past left her.

"You betrayed us." Anyarah turned around in vain to see nothing but the endless ocean of black. Pain began to form in her head transpiring from an annoying itch to an unbearably painful headache. The weight from before soon came crashing upon her in full force and causing the assassin to fall to her knees.

"I always knew you'd be a failure."

Again the voice spoke coming from no identiful direction. A drop of blood fell from Anyarah's nose and she could no longer breath. .

"Your nothing but a broken tool. No longer of use to anyone."

The void around her erupted in flames around her. The assassin's vision quickly began failing her as she soon found breathing an impossibility. Through her blurring vision a cloaked figure appeared in front of her. The figure reached into it's cloak and pulled out the same single edged and serrated blade she used. It brought the blade to her throat and she heard one last voice.

"Should of killed you long ago."

Everything went black.

* * *

Anyarah's eyes shot open as she sat up gasping for air. Her hands tightly gripped her sheets as she struggled to regain her breath. The assassin wiped sweat from her brow as she calmed herself. Letting out a long drawn out sigh as she thought back to her dream. Weather the dream was a premonition for the future or a simple dream, she didn't know, but it still unsettled her, especially that hooded one...

The voices themselves did that as well. None of them were particularly familiar but at the same time they very much were. It was as if her mind was keeping the answers from her.

Then there was her brother. She hadn't thought of him since the night at the tavern. They had gone their separate ways and she was sure he never looked back. Admittedly though there was a time she would've thought of what could of been, but those times have long since ended and she moved on. Anyarah died quite some time ago and through the Brotherhood she was reborn.

Anyarah firmly remembered the day a member of the Black Hand, one of her absolute superiors, showed up by her bedside. The man gave her a choice, 'Or perhaps an ultimatum.' She mused to herself with a light chuckle. To either join or to die and of course she chose life. Though it wasn't as simple as that, and obviously they weren't gonna let just anyone with a body count to simply join. No, they had a way to test both her and her loyalty. A contract.

At the time, like her brother, the idea of killing someone over money seemed ludicrous. She had only killed once and to her the reasons were….. justifiable. Though they were little more than street rats then, and she knew that this life they were living was no real life. And so she took the man's offer. Blood for gold. At the time of her first kill she wouldn't have admitted it then, but she liked it. So the idea of her being offered a position to be in league with assassins excited her to no end.

The test proved no challenge her and so she passed it with flying colors. 'A natural born killer' she'd been called after returning to the Black Hand member. She was quickly indoctrinated into the Dark Brotherhood of Wayrest at just sixteen. Within the five years she stayed with them in the brotherhood in Wayrest. There she honed her skills as an assassin into a deadly perfection and very quickly getting renown for it. A born killer she most definitely was.

For awhile she was complacent she and her brother could actually afford to live. Of course he was curious about their income, but she simply lied to him or at the very least evaded the question. She pulled many stops to make sure he never found out her secret. But he did, which lead to the eventual falling out and splitting of ways. She couldn't help but wonder what her brother was doing now or if he was even alive.

Anyarah shook her head as a way to relieve her mind of the thought that was Jon. He was no longer her brother, he made that quite clear, and besides she had new brothers and sisters now. The assassin threw the covers of her and stood from her bed. As she stretched and and yawned her stomach stomach let out a low grumble.

'Breakfast sure does sound appealing' Anyarah thought as she she decided to leave the room, and just as she was about to turn the knob the door swung open.

"Were back..." In the doorway stood the overly obnoxious wood elf of the Wayerst sanctuary, Nirala. For once though, she kept her mouth shut and simply stared wide eyed and dumbfounded. Anyarah raised an eyebrow at the slight tinge of redness on the speechless elf's cheeks. The little wood elf then brought one of her hands to her mouth in a failing attempt to stifle a laugh.

"Wow Anyarah, You seem comfortable." Those last three words were the only ones she could bring herself to say before bursting out in complete gut wrenching laughter. Even going so far as to wipe a lone tear from her eye. The poor assassin watched the, not out of character, but nonetheless strange spectacle in confusion. That was until the dots connected and she looked down. She forgot she slept in the nude.

Anyarah began the process of kicking herself repeatedly mentally. The usual cool headed girl demeanor broke, and she began to spewed 101 half baked excuses on how it was perfectly acceptable to sleep naked. Though she soon found she was only fighting a losing battle, as it was impossible defend herself to a giggling elf with her bare breasts out. Accepting defeat she took a step back and slammed the door close. She suddenly lost her appetite.

'On second thought, maybe breakfast can wait.'

* * *

If there was one thing Cilyn hated, it was paperwork. Within his time leading the Wayrest Sanctuary, he came to quickly find that such a seemingly harmless concept can quickly prove to be the bane of his existence. Obviously there aren't any real physical contracts, but that doesn't mean they don't document each deal into their ledger.

Even more was added to his to do list with talk amongst the other sanctuary leaders in other various provinces and the possibility of reopening shadow scale training. Which was a headache in its own right. It was difficult stressing to some of the more thick headed of the bunch that the brotherhood simply did not have these resources.

He began to massage his temples as he felt the tellings of a headache. He heard a knock at his door and said nothing. The door opened despite his silence and in stepped a man dressed in a black cloak. A bitter scowl formed on Cylin's mouth as if finding the man presence repulsive.

"Cylin, we have much to discuss." The hooded man said as he sat in the chair parallel of the the leader of the sanctuarie.

"Listener." Cylin simply stated with a hint of disdain. "It's been awhile, how's your daughter doing?"

"Skip damn the pleasantries, Cylin." The Listener said as he felt his ire rise from the question.

'Straight to business then.'

"So what do I owe the the visit, my listener. Has our, oh so gracious lady, finally spoken." Although he couldn't see, he could feel the man glaring at him at him with the utmost contempt, and it was enough to nearly made him smirk. Nearly.

"I'd suggest you watch that tongue of yours Cylin, before I forcibly remove it." The Listener was known to make good on threats. Though it wasn't like he was scared of the man, but he just didn't know how to explain to the rest of the brotherhood why there was a dead listener in his office. Especially to the elite branch in the organization known as the black hand. "But regrettably, no, not a single word," He sighed before continuing. "Have you by any chance read the paper ?"

"No," Cylin said admittedly. "I haven't found the time, I've been quite busy." He said while noting the stack of papers on his desk. "And it's not like the mailman delivers the news to our doorstep. Why is this of any importance?"

The hooded man simply sighed again at the impudence demonstrated by Cylin. "With the death surrounding the prince's brother, you remember that contract don't you?"

Cylin decided to say nothing

"The one you sent two assassin's to dispatch, and handled it carelessly I might add, please stop me if you don't remember"

"What about it." He felt another headache coming on. He selected two of the most discreet assassins in the brotherhood for that mission in particular.

"You have an overachiever."

"Excuse me?"

"While she did eliminate the target in a rather…" The listener stopped to find his words. "Unique manner. If she had simply left the Argonian alone, the guard would of put two and two together and hunted him down. An Argonian slave taking vengeance on his oppressor. There would be someone to hinge the blame on, but in its stead there is suspect of conspiracies against the boy!"

"Do you realize that the fate of the brotherhood in Wayrest lies in the death of one man?" The hooded man, in his rage, raised a single finger in emphasis. "How could the brotherhood, I ask you, put fear into the hearts of men, if there is no brotherhood!" He slammed his fist into the desk rattling it.

"Trust me, Listener, I am well aware of our current standing."

"Is that so, but what about them? Do they know? That this needs to be handled with utmost precision? The kind of impact that this will have on us? That this isn't a fucking game!" Cylin drew a sigh. He wasn't intending to be the vent of any man's anger. Even if this was the Listener.

"I can assure you I have this under control. There will be no more slip ups."

"You'd better hope so, Cylin, it wouldn't be good for your health if there was."

* * *

Anyarah wasn't necessarily in the most sociable of moods, and especially after the morning 'incident'. But for Cylin though, she would make an acception. Not that she had a choice, he was their leader after all. 'Or did the listener claim that title?' Even with half a decade time in the brotherhood, she never quite cared to learn about all the ranks and titles.

No use scurrying around in a meaningless rat race. They all did the same thing after it was said and done, and therefore be labeled the same thing. Killers. To her that's all that mattered, but she digressed.

The imperial turned the knob until she heard the usual 'click' that follows. Then Anyarah opened the door to see Cylin. He was pacing back and forth with his mind seeded in deep thought. It seemed the man hadn't noticed her enter the room.

"Cylin?" She asked curiously while wondering what could possibly get him so worked up.

"Sit." He simply demanded while taking a seat himself. She hesitantly obeyed.

"Is there a problem, Cylin…"

"Where do your loyalties lie." He quickly interrupted Anyarah's sentence, and very much leaving her off guard with such a random question.

"The brotherhood of course."

The man chuckled a little. "Oh, and what of me? What of our listener, and even our dear Night Mother, for that fact?" He took her silence as an invitation to continue.

"The brotherhood took you in as one of their own, I trained you like I would a daughter, and the Night Mother, well is the Night Mother. Mistress to all who claim to be in the Dark Brotherhood."

"Is there a reason for you to have summoned me?" Cylin gained the sudden urge to slap her for her insolence, but he settled for a toothy grin which sent shivers down her spine.

"Patients is a virtue, Anyarah," He dropped his smile into a smirk. "I suggest you learn it, but I'll answer this question for you." Cylin stopped pacing and looked the assassin in the eyes. "Your loyalty lies to the Night Mother, me, then the brotherhood in that order. Never forget that, and above all else, Sithis."

"Sithis, who is he?" The man simply swatted away her question as if it was a fly.

"How could one claim to be an assassin hailing from the Dark brotherhood, but you don't know of Sithis. I understand our history isn't necessarily taught during training, but that doesn't excuse your ignorance." He sighed and lightly rubbed his temples to calm himself. "After this, I will no longer spoon feed you the answers, understand?"

With a quick nod in reply he continued. "My words alone cannot do the entity known as Sithis justice. He can best be described as everything and yet nothing. He is the dark abyss and the cold terror that follows you in the night. That is Sithis." Anyarah pondered deeply on her master's vague words.

'Sithis'

The very name itself seemed, taboo even for her, an assassin. The very thought of the name chilled her to the bone. "Though that's enough of that," He said putting a stop to her thoughts. "That isn't the only reason your here, believe it or not. I wanted to tell you that will have to enact are plans much earlier than expected. The prince dies tonight and you'll be the one to kill him, understand." Once again he took her off guard, but she gulped before hesitantly answering anyways.

"Crystal." Cylin smiled again.

"As the will of Sithis."


	5. sup nerds

**Sup nerds, I'm back! Well kinda anyways. I won't even lie and say I've been to busy with work and whatnot. That ain't the problem. I've had a bad case of the o'l writers block and procrastination. It's sad I know, and such a deadly combination to a writer too. Anyways jokes aside I can promise that I have been working on another chapter within the time I've been gone, and I technically could submit it now. It's just I have some ambitious ideas for this story and want to make sure it lives up to what I've been imaging. So I couldn't tell you exactly when I'd be uploading the next story just know that it'll come out soon... probably. Anyways it feels good to post something new on here perhaps I could follow this up with an actual chapter, yeah?**

 **P.S. Review the damn story well ya...It's a good motivator**


	6. Chapter 5

"And that's how I killed prince!" The group of assassin's simply laughed at one of their very own, as he ranted about his exploits that were more fantasy than real. "Uh, what was his name again?"

"Ja'heem has no idea." The assassin that addressed himself in third person was a black and furry humanoid cat. "But the little royal kitten, this one, was tasked to exterminate is still very much alive."

"He's a grown man, Ja'heem." Another voice chimed in. "And I believe we were all tasked to kill, Barynia." It belonged to the same wood elf that invaded Anyarah's privacy and getting an eye full in the process. She couldn't help but think back to that incident every time she saw Anyarah. Then every time she did she would burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Hell would of long since frozen over before she would ever consider letting Anyarah live that one down.

"Perhaps so, Arelin, but it will be Ja'heem's claws that will be the ones to taste royal blood."

"Oh, shut it you damn overgrown fur ball." The Drunken Nord said before downing another bottle. "Your, an…." He paused letting out a small 'hiccup' before continuing. "Khajiit, an actual milk drinker. Your chances of killing him are as fat as the thighs on the last wench I met the other night!" He said getting laughs from the others.

"Ja'heem will ignore that comment." He said before joining in himself. "You know…" Ja'heem lead as he popped the cork of bottle of ale. "Ja'heem has also recently had a run in with quite the cougar."

"Jeez, Ja'heem, your quite the peculiar one, you know that? I vaguely remember you mentioning something about making love with a saber tooth last week.." Nirala said effectively earning an another round of laughter at the Khajiit's expense. Though he was not amused this time. He instead grumbled insults at her underneath his breath.

Ja'heem sighed as he mentally prepared himself for teasing. He knew how immature the Breton could be.

"Ja'eem told you that in confidence." He said as he gathered an excuse in an attempt to defend himself. "Besides, he came onto Ja'heem." The Khajiit said before realizing what further hole he had dug himself in. Though it was too late and the damage had been done. Leaving several assassins in the midst of confusion.

"I'm sorry, Ja'heem, but did you just say he."

"It was a strange time for Ja'heem back then. Ja'heem needed the money." He finished leaving the group in an awkward silence. Not even the Breton had a witty remark for this one as she just found herself too disturbed. So much so infact, she failed to mention that this only happened last week, and so it really wasn't that long ago.

"What about you, Viviana? You've been awfully quiet since your trip to Cyrodiil, everything went as planned I presume?" Arelin asked in attempt to quickly change the subject.

The Dark Elf awkardly smirked. "Yes. Under the the, Navah, alias it was quite easy earning the trust of that fool, and from there it was just an introduction. A wet messy introduction." The group collectively laughed once more before finally dying down enough for another her speak again.

"Speaking of introductions, I think it's time to introduce my blade to my new contract." The Dumner said before standing but stopped herself as she looked glanced at the alcoholic beverage in front of her. "After this drink I suppose." The Nordic assassin let out a hardy chuckle at the scene.

"That's the spirit! There's always time for a good drink. Good to see your not as uptight as Anyarah lately."

"Where is Anyarah?" The Dumner asked curiously receiving nothing but collectively shrugs from the group of assassins.

"Who knows, probably finding ways to string the prince up by his own intestines." Vivina simply ignored the at the graphic statement by her fellow murderer.

"No rest for the restless I suppose."

* * *

Anyarah had finally found the brothel the man from the tavern spoke of. It was a large brick manor that showed no obvious tellings of it's alleged purpose. The doors swung open and she watched as several men came stumbling out of the building, and all the while the giggling whores waved them goodbye from the open windows. She could of sworn she heard one of men mention something about going blind in his left eye, and another drunkenly whistled at her. Anyarah decided it was best to simply disregard them.

She made her way through an unused alleyway that lead to the back garden of the building. Weeds, fungi, and insects most would see undesirable, ran rampant through the tall unkempt grass. In the middle of the garden was a lone and dying tree, and underneath rested a well that was just as neglected as the rest of the garden. The weathered down and cracked bricks that littered the well's exterior were filled with weeds, and which served as a testament to that claim.

Anyarah peered into the well which seemed as if it were a dark and bottomless pit. She slipped a hand into her pocket and took out a handful of coins and threw it into the well. A second passed which then turned to two and rolled over to three. Until she faintly heard the sound of the metallic coins hitting the ground. The assassin's eyes widened.

'Just how deep is this actually.'

Anyarah reached into the knapsack she carried on her back and pulled out rope. She uncurled the rope then tied it around her waist, just above the lantern attached to her belt, and tied the other end to a tree branch. She took a deep breath and then leapt into the dark well. Adrenaline fled through her as she slammed both her feet into the the stone surface of the narrow tunnel, and skidding her feet against it as she slowed her descent.

As she reached the floor she let go of the breath she withheld, and cut the rope from around her waist freeing it of its grasp. Looking up she mentally sighed knowing it would be a pain climbing back up, even with the rope. Anyarah turned her attention back towards the tunnel. It was completely dark and would be completely impossible to navigate. She would be no better off than a stumbling blind woman. That was if she hadn't brought the lantern, anyways.

Anyarah walked forward having the lantern illuminate her path as she navigated through the tunnel system. As she made her way through these secret passage ways she couldn't help, but think about another underground tunnel system similar to this one. The sewers. They are used primarily by shady individuals, such as her organization and the Thieves guild. The sewers for the longest time was the best, and debatably the quickest, iif utilized correctly, way to get around. Especially if you were a particularly a wanted individual. It seemed as if they were linked with everything and by proxy should be able to take you anywhere. Sadly though this wasn't true.

The home of those who rule Wayrest is inaccessible through these sewers. So she had to find anohter way to infiltrate her way in undetected, and the castle was partially a fortress. It wouldn't be likely as simple as climbing into an open window, stabbing her target a couple times, and then leaving undetected.

Besides that scenario could only even be considered if she got pass the gates, and then the many sentries that are littered throughout Castle. Despite tirelessly searching for a solution around this, she couldn't help but feel that her efforts were small, meaningless even. Anything is possible though, and so theoretically there was a solution to her problem. In the meantime she would study their guard patterns, and look for possible ways to escape quickly encase if things didn't go as plan. Which wouldn't be a surprise despite there streak of good luck. Her goal to assinante the prince seemed so close yet unattainable. She could be compared to something like a dog chasing its own tail.

So imagine her surprise when she learns of a whole new set of tunnels that lead to virtually anywhere. In all honesty she didn't expect the tunnels to be real. It seemed more probable that Vicue would've spun another tale to swindle yet another sucker, and that would've been a pain.

Although considering there actually was some truth to his words, maybe she should've kept him breathing for future use. There was no use of fretting over it now though, and besides she had more pressing problems, such as finding an exit. These tunnels were built like a maze and the fact she rushed in them head first did her no favors.

Multiple squeaking in union was the only warning she had before rats scurried past her. The agent soon found herself scowling in disgust when one of the little abominations brushed past her leg. That many of them were most likely heading towards an exit. Which could mean following them could possibly lye in her best interests. She cursed to herself internally and snorted in annoyance. To her there was no lower life form than a rat, and Anyarah absolutely detested the vermin.

* * *

The cloak of midnight stretched over High Rock and exposed the stars hanging over the the province's inhabitants. The prevalent sound of owl hooting above, hidden within the thicket of the oak trees, could be heard throughout the forest.

Crisped leaves fell from the branches they once resided and gathered upon the forest floor. One leaf fell from the branch it was attached to, and slowly drifted downwards until it eventually landed in the forest below.

'crunch'

A foot reached out and stepped on it making it join the countless other leaves to litter the ground during the fall. The culprit, a man who donned a black cloak and hood to cover his features, continued walking. All the while savoring every feel and 'crunch' that follows after a step.

He continued walking until he saw another man dressed akin to him. A curse escaped his breath as he approached him.

"Cylin." The cloaked man spoke amusement was clearly evident in his voice.

"Master," Cylin said in response.

"How's the sanctuary since you ascended to leadership?"

"Is there really a need to asking such pointless questions?" He said back dryly.

"Just some small talk, Cylin." The man simply raised an eyebrow. "Your disrespect towards me, even as my silencer, is astounding. I see some things never change."

"Apparently in this, brotherhood, nothing ever does. We still follow this primitive idea of thinking that is getting many of us killed."

"The Night Mother and her tenets are what separate us from the common cutthroats, boy. Without her we are nothing, you are nothing."

"Then I alone have the power to become more than nothing."

"No, Cylin, don't flatter yourself. You could be the most deadly assassin Tamriel would have to offer, but still wouldn't be worth more than the dirt we step on. Without the Night Mother's guidance you're but a honed blade without a wielder. A weapon with no purpose. You, Cylin are nothing."

Cylin merely clenched his teeth, and choked down the many vulgar words that threatened to slip between them.

He was in no particular mood for this.

"Why am I here?"

"Well as my silencer, I would assume you would know the answer to that, why else would I have summoned you?"

"You can sometimes have a sick sense of humor." The black hand member chuckled at that statement.

"Then rest assured we will get down to business." The cloaked man uncrossed his arms and withdrew his hood from his head. He wore a simple buzz cut with white sprinkled into his hair and stubble beard. "We have a traitor in our midsts, Cylin." Something in the cloak man's voice changed that Cylin found off.

"A traitor?" Cylin found himself repeating. Cylin himself was quite verbal on his position on the issues he believed plagued brotherhood, but to actually fully turn against the brotherhood….

"That is what I said." The Black hand member growled out. "He's killed many of our brothers that have attempted to hunt him down. Most of those, well excluding the Black hand, who know of his existence are already deceased. By his hands no less!"

"You want me to deal with him then? Why can't you do it, your in the Black hand." The cloaked man sighed to himself.

"Cylin, as of now nothing would bring me more pleasure, but to snap his neck with my bare hands. It's just right now their already full, and besides things likes this is what I have you for."

"Isn't that sweet, you admitted you need me."

"Don't flatter yourself, Cylin, you are nothing."

* * *

A guard walked the halls of the King's abode in search of something to quell his needs of a drink and of a whore, and the since the last incident, he doubted the maid would be taking care of his needs anytime soon.

"How pray tell, was I supposed know it wasn't a safe day."

He grumbled to himself which fell on the deaf ears of no one. A drink to quench his ever so endless thirst would have to do he supposed. The guard turned the corner and made his way down a stairway that led to a wine cellar door.

He fumbled with the keys at his side before clumsy inserting one of them into lock then twisting the knob and opening the door. The guard smiled as he set his eyes on the many racks that harbored exotic wines from various parts of Tamriel. He walked further within the cellar inspecting and gawking at every bottle that caught his eye.

The Guard came across one bottle that truly captured his attention. He clutched the neck of the bottle and slid it out from the rack. The bottle was completely white and as he rotated the wine. The front of the bottle had a golden outline of the Empire's capital.

"White-Gold Tower."

The guard felt his mouth water as he continued to dumbfoundingly stare at the bottle. This was a drink exclusively made for kings and the elitist of nobles, and despite his title of royal guard, he was still little more than a commoner. Someone like him could hardly even dream of laying eyes on a this bottle, let alone sip from it. He shakily brought his hand to the cork and popped it off.

Again he found himself gawking at the bottle's contents. The sweet and alluring aroma of honey and cream blended with mixed meads filled his nostrils, and overwhelmed his taste buds as he sipped from the bottle. As he ceased his debauchery he licked his lips and smiled in delight.

"By the nine, do I taste dragon's tongue!" The guard exclaimed before once again downing the bottle. He brought the bottle back down and licked his lips, making sure to get every drop. As he sat the bottle next to him his drunken mind began to wonder.

The king has become quite paranoid after the death of his son in law. Wanting as much as to triple the amount of guards for the Prince's upcoming wedding. The prince though seems to be against it and simply dismisses the murder to be a coincidence.

He wasn't sure what to believe about the murdered aristocrat, who supposedly was from house Motierre, and at the same time didn't care. He was a very wealthy and influential man and who must of had very wealthy and influential enemies. This man was murdered for a reason, and he would be damned if he was gonna risk his life to find out.

So that was his plan for this mystery. Leave it at that, a mystery. One he would be damn sure to stay clear of. He refused to get himself caught up in an actual conspiracy and killed. 'And besides, ignorance is bliss.' He thought while lightly chuckling to himself.

"I'll drink to that!"

Just as he was about to take another swing a rat scurried past him and ran up the steps into the castle's halls. He chose to ignore it and let the housekeeping take care of it. Wasn't his problem.

'Click'

Behind him the wine rack flung open to reveal a passageway to the tunnels. Anyarah stepped into the wine cellar. The guard hastily and clumsily stood up and attempted to draw his sword, but halted as he'd felt a sharp pain in his throat. He instinctively reached for the source of his pain. The drunken guard felt a blade, small enough to be a throwing knife, plunged into his throat.

* * *

Even from the balcony of Wayrest the smell of salt water was prevalent. He didn't mind it though. He felt it made the view that much more enjoyable. Even since his youth, before he was king, he found that this was a good place to get away from the pressure that came with royalty. He could simply forget everything and simply be.

He paused and scratched his head in thought. 'That didn't make any sense.'

Sadly though, he found himself coming here less frequently after he became king. The usual day to day issues he had to deal with as king kept him busy. Though despite it, he decided rebel like a teenager and escape his excruciatingly boring schedule today.

"Father." The king turned towards the prince and smiled.

"Ah, well if it isn't Prince Barynia , here take me back to my duties I presume?" The prince returned the smile and laughed.

"Wouldn't dream of it." The prince joined his father on the balcony and they both stood overlooking the sea and watched as ships entered and left port.

"You know as a boy, I always wanted to be sailer." The old king said off handily as he continued to stare off into the ocean with the sun setting in the background.

"Really?" Barynia asked slightly in surprise.

"Sure, even now as well, my old age hasn't lessened my sense of adventure. Imagine being out there, boy." With his hand gestured towards the ocean. "Plundering ships when it suits you, drinking rum as if it were water, and then sailing with your crew in a sea of endless possibilities in search for adventure and wealth. Also, unlike me, you'd be worry free."

"You've just described a pirate." The king merely shrugged and laughed.

"No, I described a "privateer, I believe they like to call themselves nowadays." They both shared another laugh before continuing to watch the passing ships in silence for a few moments. "You know, There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Barynia." The prince looked at him questionably, noticing the slight tone change of tone in his father's voice. "I would like to know how you could possibly be so calm with all that's happened."

"Excuse me?" The king sighed and decided to further elaborate on his vague statement.

"The murder of your brother…"

"By marriage." The prince interrupted. "And with all do respect, it was foolish to even let that man be considered to intertwine his filthy bloodline with ours." The old king features fell into a frown as It seems that the mood was ruined.

"Your sister is really broken up about his death."

Barynia merely snorted in disgust. "Is she now? Considering the fact she's just been relieved of one of those Motierres as a husband, and as a bonus inherited his wealth. I'm sure she's very broken up about his death."

The king raised an eyebrow at his son. "Not too fond of house Motierre, why is that?" The prince simply waved the question off and smirked.

"Politics in the imperial city it's all apart of the devious 'game' we play there. I doubt you'd be interested."

"Is that so."

"Though I will say this, everything isn't as black and white as they make it appear. Every politician has their own ulterior motive." The king was obviously no stranger to dealing with power hungry politicians and internal governmental struggles. Albeit compared to what goes on at the Imperial City, things in Wayrest seemed like child's play.

"And what of you?" The king said while nodding towards the the prince. "I'm sure the heir of the throne to Wayrest looking for some sort of political gain in Cyrodiil is something that's bound to raise suspicion. What is your angle, boy? Even I don't know, and part of me doesn't even want to." The prince smiled and put hands up in defeat.

"At ease father, my motives are simple. I wish to help the people. The Montierres built their business off the backs of working class. The amount of lives they've ruined, and for what? More gold to add to their already infinite treasury? And as for any rumors that may arrive concerning the "power hungry royal from Wayrest" will simply be fallen on deaf ears. I will leave them as such. Rumors. Their meaningless words spun by fools and those who believe them are even bigger fools. Why even address it?"

The king, apparently satisfied by the answer decided to no longer push that topic and go back to their original discussion. "About the death of your brother..." The king paused as he saw the looked the Prince's eyes, and sighed. "By marriage. Aren't you worried that their after you as well or even for your sister for that matter."

Barynia took a moment to think to himself, as if taking his time choosing his next words. "I've have thought of it, yes. But I'm not necessarily convinced that it's, what was it again? Paid assassins sent to kill us, and despite the hilarity of it the idea. I believe that it was simply an Argonian getting his much deserved revenge."

The king found some reassurance in the prince's words, though still was unconvinced. It unnerving the lack of interest of the possibility of assassins after his life. The occasional death threats were something he also received throughout his time as Wayrest's ruler, and although none of them were even attempted to be followed through. He didn't get to live long enough to be able to have greying hair and wrinkles by ignoring them. Nor without the knowledge of understanding people and how to categorize them.

Barynia is a politician, and has been honing his craft of manipulating the public minds of the people in the Imperial City. A place infested with all kinds of other political rats and nobles who hold high power, and use the populist to further it. He claims to want to help the people, but as he said, every politician has their ulterior motive.

So little often does one seize higher power for themselves and not. Whether they be good or completely contradictory to their character they show off to the people. But who was he to talk, he was a king after all.

"I suppose." The king stated in some form of finality indicating he had nothing more to say. They both said nothing and allowed the silence to stretch. They stayed on the balcony until the sky fully darkened, and the gleaming stars that harbored above presented themselves and twinkled in the distance.

They entered the castle and walked its halls in the direction of the king's office. Along the way they encountered one of his servants. She was one of the older servants that served his family since the beginning of his own regin. She was an older woman, but despite it kept the same creamy, white complexion of her youth. Her face carried few lines that showed as a testament of defiance to her olding age. "Melith." The king said started as their paths crossed.

"My king." She said as she met the royals with a smile and a polite bow before.

"It seems i'm spending some time with our absent prince. As you know he's getting married soon, and so I'd liked to be the first to share a drink with him in his last days of freedom." Would you be so kind as to get us a drink from the cellar? The good stuff would be much appreciated, perhaps White Gold." Melith smiled again and nodded.

"Time seems to go by pretty quickly these days. I remember a time when he was scamping about in these halls and getting himself in trouble. Not much unlike his father I might add." She spoke reminiscently about memories of the past.

"Yes, I suppose that's right."

"The drinks Melith." Barynia interrupted before the two could indulge themselves in further discussion. Melith merely chuckled and bowed mock apologetically. "Yes, my Prince." She said giggling to herself before walking off towards the wine cellar. The two royal made their way into the king's office.

Soon after two guards walked in. Both wearing sets of heavy armor crafted from the tough and reliableness of steel. All while also adorning the elegance of silver. The cuirass they wore bore a lion reminiscent of the symbol that represented the old covenant.

"My Lord." The first guard said as he greeted the king with a salute.

"Ah, no need to be so formal, my boy" The king said with a smile. "Tell me, what is it?"

The guard notably flustered began to speak again. "Yes well…"

"Rodrick." The Prince simply said stealing the attention from his father.

"Sir Barynia." The next in line approached the guard with a smirk that one would expect from royalty.

"It seems you've become quite accomplished during the time I've been gone."

"Aye, your majesty's, captain of the watch." The captain spoke dryly not even attempting to mask his distaste making Barynia that more amused.

"Is that so." Barynia chuckled then glanced back towards the king before setting his eyes back on the Rodrick. "Following in the footsteps of your father, I see? How truly honorable?" He finished mockingly.

Rodrick gritted his teeth as he found his patience running thin. He wordlessly moved his hand towards the handle of his blade and tightened his grip.

Barynia merely laughed at the display seeing as he was successfully pushing the captain's buttons. "You best watch that temper, old friend, your next set of actions could lead to treason. Then you'd truely be following in his footsteps, Isn't that right father?"

"Then that'd make at least one of us." He narrowed his eyes at the royal. "Do you truly believe that'd you be king?" The prince shrugged.

"And why wouldn't I?"

"You're clearly delusional then, boy." The noble raised a curious eyebrow before speaking.

"Is that so, I have the people to back me. What do my sisters have? Neither of them are nearly as fit to rule as me, I'm sure that's something we all can agree." Rodrick snorted in disgust at the words that slipped through the teeth of the prince.

"The support of the people? Why would you have their support, because you think you've charmed them with those honeyed words of yours? Or is it because of the empty promises you've given them. A damn fool could see right through you. The only interests that you have on your agenda are your own." Barynia scowled clearly irritated by the impudence of a guard. Someone meant to serve him. Such disrespect couldn't go unpunished.

"Who, prey tell, is more fit to be Wayrest's ruler than I?" The prince asked as he stepped closer to Rodrick, but as Rodrick opened his mouth to speak the royal had already punched him in the jaw. "Know your fucking place, peasant!" Rodrick's face violently snapped to the side, but he recovered from the pain and quickly retaliated by striking the noble in the chin with an uppercut. The prince promptly flew off his two feet and landed on his back.

"Enough both of you. I see that even with your appsense into the Imperial City, Barynia, your still nothing more than a child. You lack integrity and that much is clear as day. Your noble, for gods' sake, lead by example." He then set his attention back to the guard captain. "And you, It isn't enough that you speak with absolute disrespect towards you betters, but picking a fight with nobility? Have you lost your fucking mind? I could have you executed on the spot!"

"My liege my deepest apologies, but he started-"

"Fucking commoner." The prince grumbled aloud as he propped himself up on his elbows. "I should have you executed!"

"Shut your damn mouth, boy!" The monarch roared in anger instantly shutting up the young royal. "Please shut up!" He returned his attention again to Rodrick a second time, but stopped himself before saying anything to further verbally abuse the prince. "And get up off the fucking floor!" He hollered again making the prince quickly stumble to his feet. "Speak." He simply demanded but the firmness within his tone made it clear his patience was thinning.

"The small seaside villages along our coast are being pillaged, and its inhabitants slaughtered." The king's initial response was shock but that was quickly replaced with rage. The very idea that someone would have the audacity to slaughter his subjects.

"Who?"

"Were not too sure, my lord. Pirates have been exceptionally active as of late, and merchant ships are starting to turn up missing. Those ships usually dock in those villages."

"So it's possible those merchant ships were followed by the pirates, and to which then the pirates started their slaughtering." The Monarch concluded. "Though pirates don't generally do their raiding on land. The bandits, and what of them?"

"They've become bolder and now are running rampant not too far from these villages. It seems they've made it their mission to disrupt trade and be an overall nuisance."

"It seems so." The king said off handedly as he paused stroking his chin in thought to himself. "Round up the calvary. Root them and out and exterminate these vermain. Those that live by the sword should be very much ready to die by it. I want you to put an end to this bandit problem, understand?"

"But sire there still begs the question of the pirates." The king simply frowned.

"Send a letter to Stros Makai's esteemed leader, Talihe..."

"Taliher, my lord, died." The guard next to Rodrick said quickly interrupting him. "There was a rebellion. He died by an arrow through the neck as he was delivering a speech to his people."

"Is that so." The King said curiously while scratching the side of his face. "Well then to whoever runs Stros M'kai, tell him…"

"Her." The guard corrected again. "His daughter shot the arrow."

The Monarch narrowed his eyes and decided to ignore the comment. "To watch their damn waters, lest they want to lose a trade partner. Their little pirate problem is now becoming our problem, and I won't have it." He said with finality.

"Yes, my lord." The two guards said in unison and hurried out of the office.

"Where's that damn drink." The king said to himself. His good mood was abruptly ended with the complete and utter idiocy his son and the Rodrick displayed, and worsened after learning of the initial reason the captain was there. On top of that the fact that Stros M'kai had a new leader could propose a new problem by itself. It could also be seen as an opportunity for greater trade relations. They'll be needing abundances of supplies and resources after trying ,and failing to quench that rebellion. Wayrest will be there to help, but at no small price of course.

He was an idealist and so he couldn't help but think ideally. If things pan out the way he wants it to he'll get rid of his province's thorn in its side, and his town would receive an economic boost. 'Course that's only if nothing happens to mess this up somehow'

"So much for that 'privateering' life you were talking about earlier, eh father?" The king drew out a long sigh before glancing at his son within the corner of his eye.

'Or someone'

"Father?"

"Didn't I ask you to shut up."


End file.
